Water, Earth, Fire, Air
by Ayra Sei Ethari
Summary: They are the four elements that bind together the universe, and thus have great influence over the course of fate and the Force through the people they manifest in. Who, you ask? Why, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Palpatine, and Anakin Skywalker.


**_Water, Earth, Fire, Air_**

_Summary:_ They are the four elements that bind together the universe, and thus have great influence over the course of fate and the Force through the people they manifest in. Who, you ask? Why, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Palpatine, and Anakin Skywalker.

_Rating:_ K

_Genre:_ general

_Canon Character(s):_ Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Palpatine, Anakin Skywalker

_OC Character(s):_ none

_Set During:_ the entire series and a bit EU

_Note:_ I read a very interesting fanfic by ncfan called "Fire and Water", and Water, Earth, Fire, Air was the result of that inspiration. In other words, if you like this fic, definitely go and read that one! I also drew upon the background stories of Avatar: The Last Airbender for inspiration.

* * *

**_Water_**

Water.

Water is smooth, and flowing, and calming. It brings calm, it brings relief, it brings life. It can be strong and furious; it can be gentle and yielding.

Padmé Amidala is water.

All her life, she has been raised around water, and her temperament, her personality, her actions all reflect that. She is at once the smooth, shimmering, beautiful waves of the lakes; the steady, continuous, out-reaching ripples of the ponds; and the surprising, flexible, bold sprays of the waterfalls. She is everything that water is at once, and that is who she will always be.

Water brings calm.

Padmé brings that, when she deals with the blockade of the Trade Federation as best as a Queen only a few months in office can. She deliberates, she debates, she considers. She keep the panic to a minimum, not allowing it to interfere with what must be done. She assures her people that she will avoid war, as they asked. And she is determined to keep that calm reflected in her face during the negotiation, so that the Trade Federation will not underestimate her and belittle her, for she is no naive child.

No.

For Padmé is both the calm lake and the bold waterfall, and she will do whatever it takes to protect her people.

Water brings relief.

Padmé brings that, when she leads the counterattack against the Trade Federation's invasion – and wins. The fruits of her planning, her labor, her work all show in the success of her pilots, the Gungans, and the Jedi. There are losses, to be sure, but she knows that had she waited longer, her people would have suffered a great deal more. When the invasion is over and the Viceroy is in custody, Naboo celebrates their relief with the parade, in which she and the boss of the Gungans pledge an everlasting friendship. And she is happy, for now she knows that everyone else knows that she is not afraid to fight for her people.

No.

For Padmé is both the predictable ripples of the pond and the impulsive sprays of the waterfall, and she will protect her people.

Water brings life.

Padmé brings that, even as her own life slips away as she lies dying on the operating table. For the entire pregnancy, she has sheltered the children within her own body, caring for them in every way a mother can. It is as much for her children's sake as her own that she flies to Mustafar to beg Anakin to help her, to come away with her, to raise their children in pace. He breaks her heart, shatters her will, and destroys whatever she has to live for. But she does not allow herself the luxury of death – not until her children are born, and they are safe with the Jedi, and she has whispered her final message.

No.

For Padmé is both the gentle caresses of the waves on the lake and the fierce stabs of blue-white spray of the waterfall, and she will die to protect her own.

Water is strong and furious yet gentle and yielding.

Padmé is all, and more.

She shows her strength and her ferocity when she fights for her people's freedom from the Trade Federation; when she fights against the passing of the Military Creation Act she knows will catapult the Republic into war; when she fights death itself to ensure her children are in the care of those she trusts.

She shows her gentleness and her yielding when she comforts the boy-turned-hero on the cold ship on the way to Coruscant, lost without his mother, his home, and everything he's ever known; when she mourns the death of her handmaidens and, finally, allows herself to be shipped back to Naboo for safety; when she lets her Anakin, her love, her husband leave the safety of Coruscant once again to "end the war at last" and go the burnt-out, hellish fire and flame of Mustafar simply because he asks her to.

And yet . . .

And yet, at the end of her life, Padmé Amidala – she who is water, the giver of life – finds herself succumbing to death because of the very one she gave a reason to live for: Anakin.

* * *

**_Earth_**

Earth.

Earth is strong, and firm, and supporting. It brings determination; it brings support; it brings wisdom.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is earth.

All his life, he has been raised in the metal, glass, durasteel city that is Coruscant – but he was born on Stewjon, and his body remembers what his mind cannot: the green grass, soft as a cushion; the tall trees, excellent for shade; the bushes of pretty flowers his mother loved so much. He is at once the unyielding, aged, structured fortress of the mountains shaped by erosion and weather; the soft, malleable, fertile soil of which life roots and springs forth; and the slender, growing, young sapling that is both wise from knowledge of the ones before him and naive to the changing new ways of the world. He is everything that earth is at once, and that is who he will always be.

Earth brings determination.

Obi-Wan brings that, as a young boy turned Padawan who helps heal a Master through constant effort and a stubbornness that will not let go, no matter what. He, like all Padawans, finds his way, loses it; gets back up, falls down again; gets himself cornered, fights his way out. What guides him is the determination that burns so strongly – he cannot, _will_ not fail his Master, no matter what is at stake, because the most important thing at stake is his Master's approval. He already disappointed him once; he does not want to ever do it again.

No.

For Obi-Wan is both the fertile soil of which youth springs and the sapling that takes the knowledge of the past and uses it towards the future, and he does not want to ever fail his beloved Master again.

Earth brings support.

Obi-Wan brings that, as a Padawan turned Knight _and_ Master in one swoop. Anakin is so young, and impulsive, and new to the ways of the Temple, the Jedi, and the Force – Obi-Wan _must_ support him, for Anakin lost both Qui-Gon and his mother within a few short days. It is his duty as the boy's Master, and it is his right as a fellow human being, to offer the boy support. He cannot withdraw that, for the boy needs him and it was his beloved Master's last wish. . .

No.

For Obi-Wan is both the malleable soil of youth and the impregnable mountain fortress, and he will not fail his Master.

Earth brings wisdom.

Obi-Wan brings that, as a Jedi Master turned Jedi General who has seen too much of war, of bloodshed, of death yet stills remembers the faint days of the past, of _peace_. War has tempered him, just as missions, just as _Anakin_, has. Having brushed close to death, to fear, to the dark side so many times has given him a store of wisdom that he will never lose. That is why Anakin and him make such an effective team, after all – Anakin has the strong, impulsive, fiery brashness of youth, while he lingers in the background, a cautious yet steady watcher, the whisperer of reason, of warning, of wisdom.

No.

For Obi-Wan is both the impregnable mountain fortress and the still-growing, wise-and-naive sapling, and he cannot bear the thought of losing Anakin as he lost his Master.

And yet . . .

And yet, at the end of his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi – he who is earth, the supporter of life – finds himself unable to support the most important life that ever needed his support: Anakin.

* * *

**_Fire_**

Fire.

Fire is rapid, and erratic, and consuming. It brings chaos; it brings destruction; it brings death.

Palpatine is fire.

All of his life, fire has been the constant thing in his ever-changing path in his plan towards the retaking and then domination over the galaxy, and then re-establishing the Galactic Empire of the Sith. The Jedi Order, with their Code and restrictions and arrogant ninnies, can go rot in a ditch for all he cares – just as long as he manages to set those remains on fire and be the one to scatter the ashes far and wide as he pleases. The fire burns everlasting in his heart, reminding him what must be done and completed and achieved. The Sith will rise again, and the Jedi will fall. He is at once the deceptively small flickering spark that whispers and pushes and pulls; the roaring, raging, all-consuming inferno of hatred that makes his minions and enemies alike cower; and the looming, threatening, ominous tongue of star fire in whose deep dark shadow he hides, where the Jedi will never find him. He is everything that fire is at once, and that is who he will always be.

Fire brings chaos.

Palpatine brings that, when he sends the Trade Federation to blockade Naboo, the seemingly inconsequential planet that is the first pawn in the game of domination. At once, the people are fearful and angered and confused; their newly elected Queen, the foolish girl Amidala, fares little better. She just hides it. But he can sense it in every communication. And that blockade sends the Senate spiraling into a slog of debate, confusion, indecision – and, of course, chaos. He did not _intend_ for Amidala to return with an army, or win the battle, or for Maul to be destroyed in the duel with Kenobi and Jinn, of course.

No.

For Palpatine is at once the deceptive, whispering, alluring spark and the ominous burst of star fire, and the Jedi will never find him, even as he walks among them to seduce one of their own as the newly elected Supreme Chancellor.

Fire brings destruction.

Palpatine brings that, when he sends the Separatists to Geonosis and then manipulates the foolish Gungan, Jar Jar Binks, into voting for supreme powers to him, as the Supreme Chancellor. He immediately moves to create the "Grand Army of the Republic" to combat the droid armies of the Separatists. The first world to be torched? Geonosis itself. For a thousand generations and more, it will be scarred with the remembrance of the battle between droids and clones, with the battles destroying so many bunkers and caves and fireballs sending local populace and battling armies scattering in every which way. But it will not be the only world, if Palpatine has his way.

No.

For Palpatine is both that ominous warning burst of star fire and the all-encompassing inferno of hatred, and this war will bring the entire galaxy – but most especially the Jedi Order and the rotting Republic – to its knees.

Fire brings death.

Palpatine brings that, over and over and again and again. It is he who commissions the creation of the cyborg General Grievous, at whose metal hands countless Jedi fall; it is he who commissions the clone army and the droid army, under whose battles thousands are killed, injured, mutilated, and changed forever; it is he who commands Anakin Skywalker to end Dooku in anger, in fear, in hatred – and therefore take the fatal step between the light and the dark that will plunge him into the order of the Sith forever. He guides the war; no one else.

No.

For Palpatine is both the all-encompassing inferno of hatred and the deceptive whispering spark, and it will be too late by the time the Jedi realize, finally, that Darth Sidious and Chancellor Palpatine are one and the same.

And yet . . .

And yet, at the end of his life, Palpatine – he who is fire, destroyer of life – finds himself unable to destroy the most important life he has ever wanted to destroy: Anakin.

* * *

**_Air_**

Air.

Air is flexible, and gentle, and harmful. It brings life; it brings survival; it brings hurt.

Anakin Skywalker is air. For a slave, the air he breathes is the only thing guaranteed to him. The clothes on his back are paid for by his master; the food he eats is parceled out by his master; even his day-to-day routine and activities are dictated by his master. As a slave, he has no freedom, no room to stretch, to independence – but the air is free. Slave and master alike must breathe air, and slave and master alike are equal on that one scale, a scale Anakin will never forget. He is at once the gentle, soft, whispering breeze that caresses everything it touches; the still, stagnant, tension-filled atmosphere where the slightest movement betrays his allies or enemies; and the whirling, devastating, undeniable tornado that flattens everything in its path. He is everything that air is at once, and that is who he will always be.

Air brings life.

Anakin brings that, when his actions in the space side of the Battle of Naboo manage to deal the only yet most important strike against the Droid Control Ship. It was a complete mistake, and he didn't have a clue what he'd done until the entire thing exploded and they were back on Naboo was he was being celebrated by pilots and citizens and even Queen Amidala. Without him, the droidekas would have imprisoned or killed her and the Battle of Naboo would have been lost. But he could not, would not let it.

No.

For Anakin is both the gentle breeze and still atmosphere of tension, and he will not let his new friends die.

Air brings survival.

Anakin brings that, as he works to protect and to save his friends, his comrades, his wife. It is he, after all, whose lightsaber defended his wife from the blasterfire that might have killed her; it is his addition to the space battle that ensures the Republic has a victory even in the most dire circumstance or situation; it is his determination, his courage, his impulsiveness that makes him able to save his friend, his Master, his brother from death nine times over. He cannot let that happen.

No.

For Anakin is both the irresistible tornado and the gentle breeze, and he will do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about.

Air brings hurt.

Anakin brings that, when his blade slices through the heads and torsos of the members of the Separatist Council on Mustafar; when the Force brings him to mow down the fleeing Jedi Knights and children in the Temple on Coruscant; and when he lashes out at the wife whose betrayal cuts him in ways he can barely begin to comprehend. He does not stop to think it through, or listen to the Force, or pay attention to the woman he declared everlasting love.

No.

For Anakin is both the still atmosphere of tension and the irresistible tornado of destruction, and he will avenge whoever dares to hurt him.

And yet . . .

And yet, at the end of his life, Anakin Skywalker – he who is both bringer and harmer of life – finds himself to be the very one that his actions have brought and hurt.

* * *

Water, earth, fire, air – they are the four elements of life, of the galaxy, of the Force. Together, they bring about the never-ending cycle of life and death, working in harmony as much as disharmony, for that is the only way of existence possible for the elements that at once demand a fight to the death as well as the only means to survive. Water needs air and earth. Earth needs water and air. Fire needs earth and air. And yet air . . . air needs no one.

Padmé needs Anakin and Obi-Wan. Anakin showers her with the whirlwind of adventure, passion, and power, just as Obi-Wan provides her with the gentle, refined steadiness of an old friend in a world where the only way to survive is backstabbing.

Obi-Wan needs Padmé and Anakin. Padmé gives him faith in the dying, money-obsessed, bureaucratic Senate, just as Anakin gives him hope for the future, darkened and clouded by the dark side as it is.

Palpatine needs Obi-Wan and Anakin. Obi-Wan, with the Jedi blindfold so firmly tied around his eyes, is a means to an end in so many different possible ways, dead or alive, and Anakin, the poor, naive, foolish boy, is the end that he so desires – total domination of the galaxy.

And yet, at the same time. . .

Earth and air fight. Water and fire battle.

Obi-Wan and Anakin are complete mirror opposites. Where Obi-Wan is steady, Anakin is tumultuous. Where Anakin is bold, Obi-Wan is cautious. Where Obi-Wan is patient, Anakin is impulsive.

Earth cages air; air flattens earth.

Palpatine and Padmé stand at opposite ends. Where Palpatine envisions chaos, Padmé envisions peace. Where Padmé espouses nobility, Palpatine espouses treachery. Where Palpatine desires total domination, Padmé desires idyllic democracy.

Water quenches fire; fire boils water.

When together, it is a barely tentative truce.

But it is only with all four can the Force, can the galaxy, can _fate_ exist. Life requires all, and they require each other, to survive, to move on, to live. Water cannot exist without earth and air. Earth cannot exist without water and air. Fire cannot exist without earth and air. As much as they cannot coexist in a longstanding truce, due to rivalries stretching back to the beginning of time itself, the Force and the galaxy still needs the creations of all four.

Water, earth, fire, air.

They are the four elements that, together, are the reasons behind life and the galaxy.

Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Palpatine, Anakin Skywalker.

They are the four people in whose hands and on whose shoulders the course of fate and the Force rests.


End file.
